Mind Games Revamp
by Julia Leonard
Summary: It's been about four years since I originally posted Mind Games. It got some decent reveiws for being as terrible as it was. I didn't want to completely lose my unfinished piece of smut. So now, I present you all with new beginnings. Happy Reading!


Title: Mind Games

Rating: Pg-13? (Snape-beating ensues.)

Word Count: 1051 (holy crap, my brain)

Summary: Once again, Severus Snape has become the victim of Potter and Black's pranks and torments. This time, however, they've taken things a bit too far.

Disclaimer: I don't own anybody. *pouts*

A/N: This story will eventually become slash. Probably in the next chapter. I am a huge fan of non- and dub-con between Snape and the Marauders, so please, if that sort of thing offends you, do NOT read past the first chapter.

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With all of the suffering in the world, you would think that the sheer entirety of it would disperse evenly over the billions of people on the planet. But, at the present time, it all seemed to weight down upon one Severus Snape. After a morning of painstakingly scrubbing the remains of Lucius' butchered bundimun eyes off of his robes and books, he proceeded into an afternoon of increased stress. His lunch ended up largely comprised on his face and sweater, coupled with the incessant laughter of most of the lunch crowd; with an abhorred emphasis from Potter and Black, the perpetrators of his mid-noon misery.

And the cause of his current unpleasant predicament.

Once again, he cursed himself for leaving his notes, unguarded, in the presence of Lucius Malfoy, who never fails to spread them about the school. Today's jinx was an old favorite. The morbidly familiar [i]Levicorpus[/i]. Oh, how he had toiled away, creating the perfect balance between acceptable dark magic and unspoken spells. It took him the good part of three months to develop it, and another few weeks to perfect it, all to have it stolen away and babbled throughout the halls. He would never be able to take credit for it either, without sounding like a fool or someone wholly bent on acceptance. That was never a goal in Severus' mind. True, he fought to be accepted as the prodigy of the Dark Arts that he was known as, but among the crowd he'd wished to please were links to the outside. And to the Dark Lord. Someone who could grant him a place of power so he could finally rid himself of the nuisances known as James Potter and Sirius Black.

He struggled against the spell, mentally kicking himself for not developing his abilities in wandless magic, as his wand was currently being held hostage under Black's foot. Damn those prats and managing, at every turn, to separate him from the only instrument he could use against them. Fists were useless. Both of them were, he hated to admit, much more physically powerful than himself, so there was no sense in fisticuffs. Besides, that was a muggle form of brawling, one his father portrayed more than he would like to admit. There was no way he'd ever lower himself to such scraps.

While lost in his thoughts, he missed Potter's next incantation which sent him sprawling to the ground, his face mashed into the think mud beneath him. Maybe he would drown. Could you drown in mud? Asphyxiation, most likely. Like being smothered with a pillow. Well, at least there would be no way for that pompous, Gryffindor-loving headmaster to protect those imbeciles if they killed another student...

Before he could concentrate more on his own death, he was once again hoisted into the air, this time rightside-up. At least, he figured he was, what with the waning moon, well, waning. Well, this was new. It wasn't Levicorpus, as he wasn't being violently strung up by his ankle. What were they—? His answer came in the form of a swift flight into the heavy branches of a tree. And, to add to this evening's series of hellish events, it was not just any tree.

[i]The Whomping Willow[/i]

Oh dear god...It wasn't moving...They must've already cast the spell. Maybe this was all a ploy to get him out of the way so they could sneak into the Shrieking Shack. A lot of good that would do. Severus could easily get down with the willow immobilized, and it's not like he didn't already know about the sha-CRACK!

One of the smaller branches whipped across his face as the tree regained its composure. So that was their game...Were they out of their bloody minds?! That damned tree would kill him! Especially without his wand. Oh god. Another, larger branch collided with his ribs, searing pain following the very apparent cracking sound. If he didn't get out of there, he'd be dead in minutes. He quickly scrambled about, trying his damnedest to fall out of the tree. At least the impact from the ground would be one fell burst, rather than the stinging blows from the angry topiary.

Every time he managed to fall, he would get caught on another branch and have to suffer through several more beatings until he could find his way down again. About four yards from the ground, he started to lose consciousness. His vision was blurred and his head felt numb. He was bleeding. A lot. Idly, he could feel it trickle down the side of his face. It was a sickening feeling, only made worse when an annoyingly familiar voice called out.

"Hey! Get Peter over here!"

Potter. What the hell did he want with Pettigrew now? That little worm was hardly at the front lines of their torture of him, usually snickering from a safe distance. He had little time to ponder that, however, as the tree once again fell limp and he was sent sprawling onto the ground. The pain really set in after everything had quieted. While he was able to muscle all of his strength to keep from crying out, his face betrayed his current physical dilemma. He felt like a mass of broken bones and bruised flesh, and honestly, that wasn't far from the truth.

One of his eyes was almost completely swelled shut, but he could still make out three sets of feet all gathered around him and...was that a rat? He risked a glance upwards and noticed Potter, Black, and Lupin all speaking amongst themselves. Pettigrew must have retreated once he fell. Bloody coward. He tried, desperately, to change his face to a disgusted look rather than one of immense anguish as Potter looked down on him. His features, the way his eyebrows were knitted together and his lips were pulled into a tight, thin line, suggested something similar to concern, and the four boys continued speaking softly. Wait. When did Pettigrew show up? He must've been more out of it than he thought, and he could feel his body betraying him, pushing him roughly into unconsciousness.


End file.
